


A Queen's Proposal

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Series: Marked and Branded [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Ferelden, Marriage Proposal, Political Marraige, Queen Anora - Freeform, Threats of Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: Queen Anora approaches Fergus Cousland with a proposal. *Set in the Marked and Branded Universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Through these One Shots, I really want to help build the background history to help give the “Marked and Branded” Series more foundation, and I just love the history of the games, and Thedas in general. It was a fun thing to play with, and when people read these then go read “Marked” or “Branded” or “Through the Ashes We Climb”, I really want them to see all the connection and how all the pieces fit together. So I hope you enjoy! :D

A Queen’s Proposal 

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

Anora knew that her reign sat upon shaky foundation. She had weathered the storm that had happened after Cailan’s death despite the naysayers, and had at first taken great strength from her father being regent. She thought he had her best interest at heart, but once his machinations had come to light, it had cracked something inside of her that would never be whole again. She still remembered the face of Ashlinn Cousland, resolute and grievance, when she allowed Alistair Theirin to execute her father. She also remembered the brief flash of sympathy and guilt those eyes have given her when Anora had crumpled to the floor on a scream after the deed had been done. She had also thought that her head would be the next to roll after her betraying them, and claiming they were lying about her father. 

Instead, Ashlinn Cousland allowed her to remain queen. 

Anora had been shocked, and when the shock wore off, she had looked at Alistair and his blood stained sword, and a bitter rage swirled in her heart. Her lips parted; ready to call for his execution when Ashlinn Cousland stepped into her line of sight. There was hint of dark warning there in that icy blue gaze as if she knew what Anora had been thinking, and perhaps given her experience with Arl Rendon Howe, she did know. Anora had swallowed her need for vengeance. She would hold it off, she reasoned until the blight was over, because as long as there was an archdemon they could not risk losing anymore Grey Wardens. In the end, Anora had not the heart to seek vengeance. She recalled the end of the battle for Denerim, and how Alistair had marched through the silent streets, carrying the broken body of his beloved. Their eyes had met for a moment, and an understanding had passed between them. An understanding of loss, and pain. Anora could not call for his head, after that. Too much blood had been spilt, and the thought of spilling anymore made her sick. 

Three years had rolled past since that day, and there was a dissonance that always lingered in whispers amongst her court. Urged on by Arl Eamon, she had no doubt, who still wished for Alistair to reclaim the throne. Her advisors reasoned that if she had a husband, and an heir then it would quell the whispers, and soothed worried minds. One advisor had been bold enough to suggest that Anora wed Alistair, but the Queen quickly rejected the notion. She may no longer wish him dead, but that did not mean she wished for the bumbling fool to be in her bed. She had already put a clause in a royal decree that should she bear no heirs of her own, then any child that Alistair may have would succeed the throne. Though there was little chance of that happening, unless the man had a bastard. From what little letters he sent Teagan, the man hardly shown interest in sex let alone a steady romance. 

His heart had died at the end of the blight, and no amount of warm flesh could comfort that kind of ache. After time, it made the bitter hollow feeling inside all that much worse. Anora knew all too well. Contrary to the cold picture Eamon painted of her marriage to Calian, she had been sweet on Calian since they were children. The moment he had pulled her braid, and she pushed him into the creek, she had known that one day she would be married to him. She had loved Calian in earnest. However, Cailan’s heart was not one to be tied down to one woman, even her. She found about the infidelity shortly before he rode off to the battle that would claim his life, and found that whispered words of love had been nothing more than lie. A horrid fight ensured, and Anora felt the burn of the hateful words she tossed at him. It was the last memory she had of him, and if she could go back to rewrite it, she would. Anger or no, she wished the words ‘I hate you’ hadn’t been last thing he heard from her. 

Anora sat primly in the red chair, her eyes taking note of the stonewalls that surrounded her. Great paintings hung from the walls where once portraits of the castles inhabitants had been, but she supposed he had not the heart to put them back up after his return home. Red wine had been decanted, and exotic foots had been brought out for her pleasure. The familiarity of such fine things did little to sooth her nerves, but she steeled herself against them. She had to remind herself that she was here for the good of her country, and her throne. 

If she were to usurp then the country would fall into chaos. Alistair was nowhere near Ferelden, and Arl Eamon would use it as excuse to act as regent. The man had his own plans, and he was not a pillar of goodness that he had portrayed to the people. He was only scarcely better than what her father had become, but at least her father had reasons for his madness. Arl Eamon had no such excuse. 

The door was opened and in strode a man that could be none of the than Teyrn Fergus Cousland himself. He stood tall, almost like a giant compared to her, with broad wide shoulders draped in a stylish yet rather subdued jacket for nobility. His body was built out of strong, hard muscles and no amount of clothing could hide that. His face was angular, featuring a long upturned nose, a strong chin, and blue eyes that held a hawk-like intensity to them. His hair was dark brown, with hints of silver along his temples that had been born from the hardship of the last few years. Thick stubble covered the lower half of his face, but did not subtract from his handsomeness. 

His eyes locked with hers, and Anora felt something crackled in the air. A powerful feeling that left her knees shaky, but she still managed to rise out of her seat to greet. “Teyrn Cousland,” Anora said, her voice soft and gentle yet held an commanding edge that came with being a Queen. 

Teyrn Fergus Cousland gave a bow at his waist before he straightened his spine, and crossed to where she stood in three lengthy strides. “Your majesty it is a pleasure to have your visit Castle Cousland, but I fear that I must warn you that I am not the best host. I fear that the recent years have worn on any tact and diplomacy that my mother, Maker rest her soul, had seen fit to teach me,” he spoke, his voice deep and pleasantly. He may claim that his manners had abandoned him, but he held himself impeccably. 

“You do yourself a disservice, Teyrn Cousland,” Anora said, genially. “So far your hospitality has been warm and generous. Your servants well-mannered and polite and your reassurance only speak of careful and diplomatic mind.” 

“We shall see if you still believe so after your visit is through,” Fergus said, and then gestured for her to reclaim her seat. He took the one adjacent from her, and inquired, “Have you enjoyed the oranges we received from Rivian? I’m told they are a delicacy that your majesty enjoys so I had my servants go through great effort to find them.” 

“Oh, yes,” Anora admitted, a slight flush on her face. “They were quite delicious, but you should have not inconvenience yourself so. It is I who has come to your door with little to no notice.” 

“It is no inconvenience if you enjoy them,” Fergus stated, something in his countenance softened. The air in the room became more bearable, and he relaxed a fraction in his chair as his deep blue eyes, a shade darker than his sister’s, stared at her with a frank and curious expression. “But I do not believe your majesty came to speak to me of delicacies, no matter how delicious they may be.” 

If Anora had been a lesser woman, she have swooned at the deep rich husky pitch to his voice and she found her eyes lingering of the handsomeness of his face longer than was appropriate. “No, I fear it is not,” she spoke; her tone went from light to serious in a heartbeat. “Teyrn Cousland, you are aware of the rather tumultuous events that led to my being a solitary ruler over Ferelden. You know what my father did, and all that happened at the Landsmeet.” 

“Yes,” Fergus nodded. “Your father had been driven to madness by his own paranoia, and it was fed by Arl Rendon Howe, may he suffer in the Void until the end of days.” 

“Indeed,” Anora said, just as grim. She remembered her father spiral further and further into insanity from his own worries, lack of sleep, and Howe whispering in his ear like a poisonous snake. She knew her father had made his own bed, but she wondered if she had been a more vigilant daughter, and had gotten him help during that dark time if perhaps things would have gone differently. “Your sister, Ashlinn, also played a significant role. I cannot express my gratefulness to your sister for seeing beyond what my father did, and making the hard decision to allow me to keep my deceased husband’s throne despite others who wished her to do otherwise for their own selfish reasons.” 

“And you did not have your own reasons?” Fergus asked, no judgment in his tone. Mere curiosity. 

“Of course, I did,” Anora did not deny. “I have known the inner workings of the throne since before I was betrothed to Cailan, and in such a chaotic time, to give the throne to someone who had no idea of what sea of sharks they’d be dropped into would have only created more damage. My motivations may have not been purely autistic, but I have led Ferelden without falter.” 

“So why do you seem so concerned now?” Fergus inquired, leaning forward slightly. His lips were tilted downward, and his blue eyes swept across her face. 

Anora for a split second was taken aback. She was no used to people being able to see so clearly past the mask she had created, and gave him a strange look. Swallowing down the strange knot in her throat, she put down her chalice and clasped her hands in her lap. “I suspect Arl Eamon is trying to inflame a revolt against me. He wishes to put Alistair upon the throne, and use him as a puppet yet I am in the way as I have always been. He wishes to discredit my ruler by my lack of husband, and therefore my lack of heirs.” 

Fergus studied her for an unnervingly long moment. His gaze was as shrewd and daunting as his sister’s had been, if not more so. “You wish to marry me,” he realized, his voice a low, rough rumble. 

“Yes,” Anora drew herself up, not allowing his expression to discourage her and rattled off the speech that she had mentally prepared in her mind ever since the plan to marry Teyrn Cousland had come to mind. “The Couslands are the most prominent family in Ferelden next to the royal bloodline. If I were to marry you, then most of Arl Eamon’s support will falter because of that alone. Our children may not have King Maric’s blood, but the Cousland bloodline is nothing to scoff at. I believe that two children should suffice, a son to inherit the throne, and another child, boy or girl, to inherit Castle Cousland. Though if more children are wanted than we can discuss it after the first two are born.” 

“Already planning children I see,” a hint of a smile was now on Fergus Cousland’s face, but it held sadness there, too. A tension crinkled at the corners of his eyes, and his hand reached up to fiddle with the locket that hung from around his neck. 

Anora bowed her face, a slight flush on her cheeks. “I apologize. I know it is presumptuous of me to speak of such when you have not even agreed to a marriage with me,” the Queen said, demurely now that her passion speech had been spent. “I just wished for you to know that it is not only I who benefit from this, but you as well.” 

“Hoping to entice me into alliance?” Fergus asked, eyebrow arched. 

“Perhaps,” Anora said, after a moment. 

The smile upon his lips tightened as he rose from his seat. “I fear that I cannot consider such a request, your majesty,” Fergus said, his expression closed off. “I understand the gravity of your plight, but marriage is something I hold sacred. I do not wish for a marriage that is cold, and nothing more than a political alliance.” 

“It is more than just that,” Anora defended, a note of frustration in her voice. She also rose to her feet, and her hands were clenched into fists at her side. 

“Is it?” Fergus challenged, looking down at her. 

Anora gritted her teeth together, and looked away for a moment to gather her thoughts. He was not interested in political alliance, or with a woman who solely sought that. To prove herself more than that, Anora knew it meant bearing her soul in a way that she had not done since younger and more naïve days. Heart pounding against her ribs, she raised her eyes to catch his. “I am alone. Not merely upon the throne, but through life I am alone. The Blight and the aftermath took everything I had. My husband and my father were all I had in this world,” she said, her voice thick. Things may not have been perfect at the end with either of them, but that did not mean she grieved them any less. “Out of everyone I have considered to be my future husband, you are the only one who can understand that loss.” 

Fergus stood there motionless as if Anora’s words had sapped the life right out of him, and emotions too fast to name flickered through his eyes before he turned away to march towards the door. Anora could feel the meeting crumbling into a disaster when he paused, hand upon the doorknob. A minute ticked by where they seemed stuck in this strange limbo of waiting for the crescendo to build, leaving the inevitable fall that came after. No crescendo came, and no fall followed. Instead, Fergus’s shoulders rose with a great breath, and he turned back towards her. “I shall have my servants prepare a room for you and your people,” he told her, his tone simple and to the point. 

“What?” Anora gaped. She had not expected such an offer, and didn’t know what to make of it. He seemed like a thundercloud only seconds ago, and now he was as calm as the quiet ocean. “I don’t understand.” 

“I would like time to get to know you, Queen Anora, before I make such a decision. We have been through both through tragedy and heartache. I would not wish for us to enter a marriage only to find ourselves miserable,” Fergus commented, a hint of smugness in his tone. He had heard many rumors about the Queen that her wit and sharp mind had tore many men down. A part of him was pleased to leave her so speechless. “That is if, your majesty, has such time that can be spared.” 

Anora stared at him, shocked. It took her several seconds to gather her wits, and let out a rather shaky breath. More shaky than she cared to admit. “Of course. I think that is an excellent suggestion,” she said, her voice even. She did not want to let him see how much hope that his gesture had created within, and she felt more than relieved that she had followed her gut to come to speak with him. 

Fergus smiled, a genuine expression. “I have matters I must attend, but I will be done in time for supper. Your majesty is free to enjoy all the hospitality and sights that Castle Cousland has to offer,” he told her, convivially. “I hear you are quite the reader, and our library is known for being quite grand. Even with Howe’s treachery, he saw fit to leave most of it in tact though several Cousland tomes were burned.” Shaking his head off such dark thoughts, he offered, “You may spend time there if you so desire.” 

“It sounds like a lovely idea,” Anora accepted, graciously. “Thank you.” 

Fergus inclined his head, and then swept out of the door. 

Anora’s fears were not completely dismissed. They would not be dismissed until Arl Eamon had no support to rally against her because until such a time, she feared civil war may once again envelope Ferelden. Yet there was a lightness that spread through her heart now thanks to Fergus Cousland. He may not have given a vow, but he was a man of honor where others would merely take the throne for their own personal gain. And more importantly, he understood the pain. 

The pain of a broken lonely heart.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head space, this political marriage between these two will turn into something genuine and they will grow to love each other. I imagine Fergus will have his hands full with the headstrong Anora, and she will find Fergus's protectiveness maddening, but love prevails. lol
> 
> I would like to make a request for a fic. I don’t know where to post for such on here, so I’d figure I’d leave at the end notes section of this. I would like someone to write a little sequel to this about Anora and Fergus where she inquires for some reason or another about the room that is always locked. She doesn’t know that this was his room with his deceased wife, and the place where they had been slaughtered which is why Fergus has it closed off because he doesn’t want to face the memories. I thought it would be angst with a hurt/comfort and allow Anora/Fergus to start to build something genuine. If anyone does it, let me know! It will, of course, be considered cannon with the “Marked and Branded” universe, if you’d like.
> 
> MAIN STORYLINE  
> 1.) Marked (completed) 1st in the series.  
> 2.) Branded (in progress) 2nd in the series.  
> 3.) Through the Ashes We Climb (in progress) 3rd in the series.  
> \--Branded and Through the Ashes We Climb overlap time wise.  
> 4.) *Title In Work* (planned) 4th in the series.  
> SIDE STORIES  
> 5.) These Thoughts of You (completed) Alistair thinks on his dead beloved. *current time*  
> 6.) He Made Me Smile (completed) Ashlinn Cousland's thoughts on her romance with Alistair. *set in Dragon Age Origins  
> 7.) TALES FROM KIRKWALL  
> Stories complied together of Echo’s time in Kirkwall. Some snippets, some oneshots, some introspective.  
> Such Fragile Things (completed) Isabella takes Echo out on a night of debauchery that ends up landing them in hot water.  
> Snip, Snap, Crick, Crack (completed) *Set after Leandra’s death. Hawke centric with Fenris/Hawke and a helpful Echo*  
> 8.) Mythal’s Tears (planned) *Set after they reach Skyhold. Summary: Ashlinn and Echo come up with a plan to give the elves a new homeland, but the cost may be greater than they are willing to pay)  
> 9.) Marked and Branded AU One Shots (planned) *Smutty One Shots of Alternative Universe with characters from Marked and Branded such as Echo, Ashlinn, Mahanon, Marco, Catherine where the world put them on a different path. Basically just a reason to write some smut*


End file.
